What I was looking for was one thing.
Just one.
A happy family with my true love… that sparkles like diamond.
I used to believe happiness could be as simple as that. The image of us, me and him, sitting by the window of our small apartment in Suzhou, steam rising from our cups of chrysanthemum tea, sunlight scattering through the lace curtains like tiny diamonds. I remember the way he laughed that day, saying, "When we're old, you'll still be complaining about my tea being too bitter."
I told him, "And you'll still be adding too much sugar just to annoy me."
We laughed, our fingers brushing over the teacups. Back then, I thought even our arguments were made of love.
I hope someday my prince with a white horse would come.
That was my wish forever.
And he did come or so I believed. Not on a horse, but on a secondhand scooter that broke down in the middle of the road near my university gate. I was the one who offered him water while he tried to fix it, his hands covered in grease. He looked up, grinning, and said, "I'll marry you someday to repay your kindness."
I laughed, thinking he was joking. But five years later, I was standing beside him in a borrowed wedding dress that smelled faintly of mothballs, promising him my heart.
All I want is someone I love… someone dear to my heart who would love me back.
In those first few years, it felt like that promise was real. We cooked instant noodles at midnight when we couldn't sleep, shared umbrellas on rainy mornings, and watched old dramas on his cracked laptop.
He'd tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and whisper, "Don't ever change, Mei."
And I believed him.
I believed that as long as love existed between us, the world could never truly hurt me.
Happiness to me would be for that to happen.
We bought our first apartment when I turned thirty. It was small, barely enough for two people, but when we painted the walls together. He splashing more paint on me than the wall. It felt like heaven. That night, lying on the floor among the open paint cans, he said, "This… this is the beginning of our forever."
And I thought, Yes, this is it. This is happiness.
I didn't know forever could have an expiration date.
I would be happy if he were my first and my only love.
He was.
From the moment I met him, I didn't let another man into my heart. He was my morning and my night, my comfort and my pain.
Even when work kept him late, even when he started locking his phone, even when his scent began to carry a hint of a perfume I didn't own—I told myself it was my imagination.
Because first love is blind, and I was proud of being blind.
When we tied the knot, we vowed to protect our love forever.
I remember that rainy day vividly. My veil clung to my hair, and his suit was soaked through, but he held my hands tight under the flimsy shelter outside the registry office. He said, "No matter what happens, I'll never let go."
And I whispered back, "I'll never doubt you."
The witnesses smiled, the clerk stamped the red seal, and the rain turned to mist. That moment felt eternal. How foolish that I once thought vows could protect love.
That pledge hasn't changed since then.
At least, not for me.
I cooked his favorite dishes every Sunday, ironed his shirts, reminded him to take his medicine. I never forgot our anniversaries even when he did.
He started bringing home new cologne, expensive watches, and once, a lipstick stain that wasn't mine. He said it was from a business dinner.
And I nodded, smiled, and pretended to believe. Because my pledge hadn't changed. Because I didn't want it to.
He's the only one for me until I die.
Even now, after everything, I still catch myself setting the table for two. The rhythm of fifteen years doesn't vanish overnight.
Sometimes, when I wake in the middle of the night, I think I hear his breathing beside me. Then I remember, he's gone, and that sound is only the wind rattling the windowpane.
But even so… my heart doesn't stop calling his name.
Maybe love and obsession are not so different after all.
I never thought of loving anyone else.
I had chances. Colleagues who smiled too warmly, neighbors who noticed my loneliness. But I always turned away. I told myself, No, I'm married. I have everything I need.
How ironic, that I spent half my life proving loyalty to a man who betrayed it so easily.
When I finally found the photos on his phone, her arms around his neck, their smiles so carefree.I didn't scream.
I just stared at the screen, numb, feeling something inside me quietly die.
Not once did this happiness seem to waver.
For years, I defended our marriage like a shield. When my mother asked if he was treating me well, I said yes. When my friends whispered rumors, I smiled and said they were wrong.
I convinced myself that love was stronger than truth.
That if I kept pretending, the lies would somehow turn real.
I even wore my wedding ring to bed every night, pressing the cold metal against my chest as if it could stop my heart from breaking.
Not once did this happiness seem to waver.
Until it shattered like glass falling from a high window.
I remember the night I saw them together in the café near his office. Her hand on his knee, his lips brushing her ear.
He looked… happy. Genuinely happy.
I stood outside in the drizzle, my umbrella trembling, my breath fogging the glass.
For a moment, I thought, if I walked in and called his name, he would see me, apologize, and everything would be okay again.
But I didn't.
Because I saw his eyes.
And in them, I wasn't there anymore.
In the ten years we married, not once ever.
Not once did I imagine this ending. Not once did I prepare for betrayal.
I had built my entire existence around him with the meals, the home, the laughter, the child we had.
And now all that was left were shadows of memories clinging to an empty apartment.
The smell of his aftershave still lingers in the bathroom. The dent on his side of the bed remains untouched.
I can't bring myself to smooth it out.
That's why I can never forgive this.
Forgiveness is for those who still hope.
But hope died the moment he chose someone else.
The woman in the mirror is no longer the same naïve girl who believed in fairy tales. Her eyes are darker now, her smile quieter.
She no longer prays for love, she waits for justice.
And justice, in this world, is not pure. It wears many faces.
You just wait and see.
He thinks he can walk away, start anew, live his dream life with her.
But I remember every secret, every weakness he ever showed me. I was his wife and I will know where he hides his shame.
The world might pity the betrayed, but I will make them fear me instead.
If no one else will judge this sin, then I will administer the punishment.
My hands tremble as I close the photo album. The smiling faces on those glossy pages feel like strangers.
I once thought love was the light that guided me.
But now I see clearly, light can also blind.
And when it fades, what remains is the truth:
that diamonds don't sparkle in the dark.